


Too Shy To Say Hi (Alternatively, I Would Build A Bomb For You)

by Hibanai



Series: Once Wild Things [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkward Flirting, Crack, Humor, M/M, Possibly OOC, Romantic Comedy, Shyness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-01-03 23:25:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 13,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hibanai/pseuds/Hibanai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Quartermaster is cripplingly shy.</p><p>And hopelessly crushing on James Bond.</p><p>Tony Stark gives him advice.</p><p>A love story told via friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

It all starts with a bomb.

Of course it bloody does.


	2. The Adviser

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please please please give me feedback! This style of storytelling is new to me and I would love to hear your thoughts, good or bad!

“Tony, what do I do? I can’t keep doing this. Every time he so much as looks at me I lose my train of thought. It’s only so long until I accidentally blow something up, get someone killed, or make a fool of myself. I don’t want to look like an idiot in front of him,” Q bemoans. 

Tony has known Q since boarding school, yet he still can’t get over how strange his friend’s priorities are. “Have you tried talking to him?”

“I get social anxiety just _looking_ at him. The first time I talked to him I compared him to a _ship._ A ship that was 'being ignominiously haunted away to scrap.'"

“Okay, ya. That's pretty bad, even for you. You didn't do the line about your pajamas, did you?" Tony hears a slightly muffled groan and knows that his friend is burying his face in his hands, as if that'll shield him from the humiliation or hide the fact that he's blushing. "Here, try this. Give him something. A present. People like presents. You can even leave it on his desk with a note if you can't give it to him in person. What does he like?”

“Shiny cars. Women. Things that explode.”

“Ooookay, maybe –“

“I got it! Thanks Tony!”

The line goes dead. Tony stares at his phone and wonders what hell he has just wrought. He shrugs. Whatever, this is Q he's talking about. Q wouldn't do anything too crazy like giving his crush an exploding woman; things should turn out okay.

He relaxes. Then he recalls what happened the last time Q had a crush on someone.

Shit.

Things are not going to be okay.

“Pepper?” Tony yells frantically, scrambling out of his chair.


	3. The Gift

“Catch.”

Alec instinctively catches the round object that Bond throws at him and regrets it immediately. “James, did you just throw a bomb at me?” 

“Yes.”

If Alec weren’t a trained assassin, he would’ve dropped it out of shock. If it hadn't been James who had thrown it at him, he would've thrown it back just out of reflex. “James, you do not just throw bombs at people unless they're the enemy! What is bloody hell is wrong with you?”

“There’s a mole in MI6. I found that on my desk today. Wrapped up, like a present.”

“Was there a note?”

_“’Good job on your last mission.’”_

Alec inspects the bomb in his hands. It’s a shiny silver sphere and there’s a little card with instructions tied to it with a piece of brown yarn. The timer, activation button, and fingerprint scanner are arranged in a way that makes it look a little bit like a…winky face. “I’ve never seen anything like this. It really activates to your fingerprint?”

“Neither have I. And that’s what the note says. I didn’t test it out. I don’t exactly fancy blowing myself up today. Or tomorrow. Didn’t they ever teach you in school that you shouldn’t trust bombs from strangers?”

Alec raises an eyebrow. “I went to boarding school. The most dangerous thing there was Tony Stark’s libido.” That reminds him. “Why don’t you take it to Q? I doubt he’s the mole.”

“You’re joking, right? The boffin hates me. Whenever I go to Q branch he glares at me until I leave. Alec, the last time I went down there he set me on fire.”

“I doubt he did it on purpose. All his minions think he’s sweet. They dote on him.”

“He’s the Quartermaster. He couldn’t set someone on fire on accident if he _tried_. I doubt he'd help me. He'd be more likely to tell me to go find a forest, test the bomb out, then write up an after action report about it if I live.”

Alec doesn’t point out James’ faulty logic. He knows James is internally a little freaked out, even if the git has a perfect poker face and would never admit it. “Great. Then exactly how are we going to figure out who made it?”

“Wait, why don’t _you_ ask Q?” James asks.

“He’s mad at me." Has been for a long time. "He doesn't even handle my missions. Probably for the best. As professional as he is, he'd kill me off in a second. Trust me, he hates me more than he hates you.”

“Didn’t you just call him sweet?”

“I, uh- it’s a long story, okay? Let’s just say I can’t go to Q branch anytime soon.” _Or tell you about what happened unless I want to be sent into the field with nothing but the shirt on my back, if even that,_ Alec thinks to himself.

“Why me?” James asks. “Why not M? Or Q? I’m just a Double-O.”

“I don’t know. A lot of people hate you?”

“In MI6?”

“True. Well there is Haverson…”

“Haverson is in accounting and he can’t figure out the days of the week. I doubt he’s the mastermind behind this,” James drawls.

“Maybe it really is a gift? _Maybe,_ someone really likes you,” Alec tries to reason.

They look at each other and burst out laughing.

“Wait, you went to school with Tony Stark, right?” James points out.

 _Please don’t do this to me. Please don’t do this to me,_ Alec prays.

“Why don’t you ask Stark? He can be trusted, right?”

 _Because I broke his best friend’s heart back in boarding school._ “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?” If he sounds a little overly enthusiastic, James doesn't notice.

When James is gone Alec leans back until his head bangs against the wall and sighs, “How is this my life?” 

Then he searches up Tony Stark because even though Stark now has an Iron Man suit and could probably kill Alec with it, James is in danger. Never let it be said that Alec isn't a good friend.


	4. The (Makeshift) Therapist

“I don’t get why you don’t just talk to him, Q,” Eve lilts. “I know all about that little present you left on his desk the other day.”

“Go away, Eve,” Q grumbles, not even looking up from his desk.

Eve tuts. “That’s not very nice. No wonder he avoids visiting you down here and you have to resort to being a creepy stalker and watching him with all your cameras.” She sets a cup of earl gray on his desk as a peace offering.

Q sighs, but takes it anyways. The boffin is a slut for tea. “No, he hates me because I accidentally set him on fire and I still have spots. And I do not watch him. That would be an abuse of power.”

Eve waggles her eyebrows, not that Q can see it because he is pointedly not looking at her. “Please, we all know you’re into that.”

“Don’t you have a job to do? Besides trying to be my therapist?”

“Since you refuse to go to your sessions, my job _is_ being your therapist. I’ll go away if you just talk to him. I’m tired of you watching you mope around like someone killed your puppy or something.”

“I don’t want to talk to him.”

“Your actual therapist or Bond?” Eve asks.

“Both,” Q spits out petulantly, sounding not unlike an unruly child. He's worse than the Double-Os, not to mention twice as stubborn.

“Why?”

“My therapist is a dolt. As for Bond? Because people are confusing. Especially when you have to talk to them. A conversation is only 7% words. And that 7% can be all lies.”

“But Q, this isn’t people. This is James Bond. And he’s plenty easy. Trust me. If you don’t trust me - and you only don’t because you’re a git - you’ve seen how he is yourself. And enjoyed it, I might add. Anyways, body language isn’t that hard to read, you know,” Eve points out, exasperated with Q. She loves him, mostly, but sometimes he can be so damn frustrating. Pull her hair out or turn it all gray kind of frustrating. The kid a genius, why can’t he hold a simple conversation with James? She doesn’t understand.

“Eve, if you raise an eyebrow it could mean a hundred things. It could mean that you’re surprised, that you’re appraising something, that you want to have sex with me,” Q finally looks up, if only to glare at her, and she raises an eyebrow, just to mess with him. “Please tell me you don’t want to have sex with me.”

“No, I’m raising my eyebrow because I think what you just said is incredibly stupid.”

“And yet, you’re proving my point. Go away.”

“Q, you really need to get out sometime: talk to people, make some friends. When was the last time you’ve even _hugged_ a man, let alone kissed one?” The Quartermaster’s cheeks turn bright red at her comment. “You don’t even remember do you? Either you talk to him, face-to-face, and missions don’t count, or I’m dragging you to a gay club on Friday.”

Q snorts. “Even if you could, I wouldn’t have anything appropriate to wear. They wouldn’t let me in the door.”

“I shot Bond once and I could do it again,” she threatens.

Q narrows his eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

She wouldn’t, at least not until James hurt Q, but Q doesn’t know that. She gives him a fake smile, so fake that even he can tell it’s fake. “Try me."

“I’m not shopping for clothes just to go clubbing,” Q pouts and Eve ruffles his hair.

He flinches away, as if her touch burns.

She pulls her hand back and makes a mental note to ask about his reaction next session. For now, her objective is to get Q to talk to Bond; everything else is secondary. “Then you better talk to him, hm?” She suggests lightly.

They make small talk - which Eve knows he hates her for, but he really needs the practice even if he doesn't know it - until his cup is empty. As she’s leaving his office she looks over shoulder and, lo and behold, Q is moping again. She inwardly sighs. It’s a good thing she knows Q’s size.

Well, good for anybody lucky enough to see Q in them; Q might disagree. Anyways, if they’re lucky enough or Eve gets Q drunk enough, they might just get to see them on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please please please send me feedback! Anything you'd like to see, mistakes, etc. (To the commenter who wanted to see Alec and Tony's talk, that's next chapter! :) )


	5. The Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays! :)

“Tony, breathe. Calm down. Now explain to me again, _slowly_ , why I need to clear not only your schedule, but also Steve’s, for a whole month so you can take the corporate jet to London.” Pepper sighs, rubbing her temples in a pathetic attempt to ward off her incoming headache. “Is your guys’ sex life suffering or something? Because if it is –“

“No. No. No. Just no! Please don’t ever say that again Pep, Jesus Christ!” Not that he would be opposed to spicing it up, if Q was obliging. Tony allows himself to get off task and reminisce for a moment.

“Tony, are you even listening to me?” Pepper snaps.

“Uh, ya. Sorry. We need the jet because my friend – and potentially England – is in trouble.”

Pepper blinks, looking puzzled. 

“…Is it really that surprising that I have friends?”

“Tony, I know you have friends, but…” Pepper hesitates. Eventually she manages to tactfully say, “I didn’t think you had any in London.”

“Old boarding school pal,” Tony supplies, kind of wounded that she’s more worried about Tony’s ability to make friends than the current state of England. “Anyways, he needs me and Steve so we’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Why does he need you for a whole month? Tony, are you dying again?” She accuses.

“Pepper, no. Jesus, that was only one time. I’m fine. He’s having personal problems and things tend to blow up around him when that happens.” Chemistry class junior year had been a disaster. Q and Tony – and the lab rooms – have the scars and burn marks to prove it. It probably hadn’t helped that neither of them had ever followed the instructions and liked experimenting with unstable compounds all the time. 

“What?” Pepper sounds slightly alarmed. Maybe more than slightly alarmed. Tony can never tell with her; she’s never exactly calm so it’s hard to get a baseline.

“Don’t worry! He wouldn’t hurt me.” _On purpose_ , Tony adds silently. Not that is was Q’s fault that Tony had an unrequited crush on him for years. Heck, Q hadn’t even known. “And before you ask he’s not a mutant or superhero or anything like that. He’s perfectly normal: so normal that he’s an accountant. He’s just a bit brilliant and likes tinkering with things in his spare time.”

“And exactly what kind of personal problem would cause an accountant to _blow things up_?” Pepper lets out a long suffering sigh.

“He has a crush on an alcoholic, womanizing pyromaniac.”

“Tony, you’re putting multi-million, not to mention a few multi-billion, deals on the line because your friend, from _boarding school_ , has a _crush_?”

Just then, Steve pops into the kitchen. “Er, am I interrupting something? Jarvis told me I should come to the kitchen, but –“

“Tony wants to take a month long vacation to London with you to visit some old boarding school friend. Apparently, he’s worried that his friend can’t handle the stress of having a crush,” Pepper explains, rolling her eyes.

Steve perks up immediately. “Q?” He asks Tony. When Tony nods, Steve’s face lights up. “We’re visiting Q? I miss him. I haven’t talked to him in forever.”

“That’s because you hate using the computer, he can’t figure out how to send mail that isn’t digital, and he only calls at like, 4 a.m.,” Tony reminds Steve, though Steve isn’t listening.

“Q has a crush? That’s great! That’s…oh.” Steve frowns. “Is he going to be okay?”

“If we can help it, yeah.”

Steve turns towards Pepper – and god, Tony loves this man – with giant, blue puppy eyes. 

Pepper huffs, “Fine. Just, don’t do anything stupid, okay?“ Tony and Steve give affirming nods. That’s Q’s job.

What kind of name is Q anyways?” She asks, but Tony already zipping out the door, Steve in tow.

\-------

Tony dreams that Q crawls into his bed at night, limbs trembling and cheeks tear streaked, just like he used to, because he needs someone to hold him together. When Q apologizes in the morning he sounds far too vulnerable for Tony’s liking, as if he's scared Tony will throw him away and it breaks Tony that Q puts such little faith in him, that Tony can't get it through to Q that Tony would never do that because Tony isn't Alec. Tony dreams of Q needing an arc reactor in his chest because his heart – which Q wears on his sleeve because he’s too honest, too pure, to do otherwise even though he doesn’t want to because it will only hurt him and so he forces himself into solitude instead – is too full of shrapnel left behind by Alec and this latest crush. He dreams that Q flinches away from his and Steve’s touch the way he does everyone else’s. Q is the most tactile person Tony knows, but touch has a memory and Q’s memories aren’t good ones.

_“Sleeping with you definitely wasn’t worth the $200, especially with all the fawning I had to deal with,” Alex sighed when they approached him in the field. It was empty save for them, due to the cold._

_Q flinched backwards at the words. “What?” He asked, harlequin green eyes wide in disbelief._

_“It was a bet. $200 dollars if I could pop the nerd’s cherry. I think my mates actually did it out of pity for you. God knows you never would’ve gotten laid otherwise. Really, your idea of romance is giving me an exploding pen. Could you get any more pathetic?” Alec sneered at Q. “I can’t believe it took you a year to finally work yourself up to having sex. What are you, a girl?”_

_“I-“Q started, only to falter and shrink into himself, hands cradled to his chest._

_“And you can’t even take a hint. I’ve trying to break up with you ever since, but no, you kept following me around like a pathetic stray begging for scraps of affection no matter how many times I kicked you away. So I’ll just say it straight out: we’re done. I never even liked you. I could barely stand you. I did you for a stupid bet. Why else would I ever touch you? I can’t believe you ever thought-”_

_Tony lost it. He threw himself at Alec and punched the asshole as hard as he could. It wasn’t nearly hard enough for him to be satisfied, though Steve’s class ring left a nasty gash on Alec’s cheek. Tony elbowed Alec in the ribs as hard as he could, twisting his body for extra momentum._

_Alec was far larger than Tony, more athletic and muscular as well, but he did nothing to fight back. The bastard just stood there and took it until Tony ran out of steam and the sound of Q’s crying - small hiccups that Q was trying and failing to hide - drowned out the sound of his fists meeting flesh._

_Alec smirked despite the split lip Tony had given him. “Is that all you’ve got? No wonder the two of you get along with each other so well. You’re both pathetic,” Alec intoned coolly, as if Tony hadn’t fractured at least one of his ribs._

_Q made a small, broken keening noise. Tony ran over to Q and pulled his friend into a tight embrace. Q's body went limp against his and they slumped onto the grass, desolate and heartbroken: Q for Alec's cruelty and Tony for Q._

_Alec walked away and never looked back._

“Tony? Your phone is ringing,” Steve mumbles against Tony’s neck, dragging the engineer out of sleep. He lingers in the space between sleeping and waking for a moment, shaking the remnants of his nightmares away.

He’s about to call for Jarvis when he remembers that they’re on the plane to London. Tony grunts and stretches his arm out, blindly grappling for his phone, which won’t stop vibrating. He’s a deep enough sleeper that it wouldn’t wake him, but Steve has bat ears. 

He briefly glances at the caller ID – unknown number – before pressing his thumb to the screen for the biometric scanner. “Q?” He guesses.

“Not quite,” replies a very familiar voice. “It’s Alec Trevelyan. I know I don’t have any right, but I need your help.”

“Scar starting to fade? Or do you want a matching one?” Tony twists Steve’s class ring around his finger. It’s newer than the one Tony wore back in boarding school and has the initials of Steve’s college, rather than his high school, but it’d do the job.

“…I deserved that. And more. I’m sorry.” And Alec does genuinely sound sorry, but Tony doubts it’s for the right reason.

“You’re only apologizing because you want something. And you’re not even apologizing to the right person,” Tony snaps. 

Steve scoots closer to Tony, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Is everything okay?”

Tony covers the microphone of his phone and hisses, “It’s Alec.” Tony feels Steve stiffen behind him and the arm around his waist pulls him a little bit closer. Steve doesn’t know the whole story, but he knows that Alec hurt Q, and badly. He was there to bandage Tony’s bloodied knuckles, to help pick up the pieces.

Steve plucks the phone out of Tony’s hand. “What do you want?” Steve growls.

“Someone left a bomb on my friend’s desk and the police can’t figure out who did it,” Alec answers. Steve is close enough that Tony can hear Alec through the phone easily. “They said the bomb isn’t like anything they’ve ever seen before. The bomb was meant for my friend; it wasn’t a random attack. There was a note attached to it, directed towards him. Someone is out to kill him. I know you guys hate me but -”

Tony’s blood runs cold and he snatches the phone from Steve. “No. I’m not helping you. Not now. Not ever.” The bomb has to be Q. God knows what kind of trouble Q could get in if anyone ever found out. Or what Q’s crush would think. Q would be devastated. He might be anyways, seeing as his crush is a friend of Alec’s: that’s never a good sign of character. “My advice is for you is to detonate it and to throw yourself on top of it. Do the world some good.” He could tell Alec that his friend has nothing to worry about, but let Alec worry and fret. Let Alec learn what it's to be like to watch a friend suffer and be helpless to save him.

“Stark, please. What do you want me to do?” 

Tony notes that Alec doesn’t say, ‘I would do anything,’ like most people would when trying to save their friend. Tony would have done anything to prevent what happened to Q. “I just told you,” Tony replies coldly and ends the call.

Belatedly, he realizes that he should’ve asked for the name of Alec's friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Alec and Tony's conversations is a bit anticlimatic >.


	6. The Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! :)

“Bad news,” Alec tells James. He takes in James’ frown. It looks like he isn’t the only one. “You first.”

“I got another gift,” James sighs.

“What was it this time?” Alec is curious, especially because he hasn’t had anything thrown at him yet.

“A custom bulletproof vest. It fits perfectly and has a holder made for my Walther. The note said, ‘You might want to watch your back.’”

“I think you’re going to have to seduce the Quartermaster,” Alec informs James gravely, hating himself for saying it because Q deserves better than being used like that.

“What?”

“Stark hung up on me and how else are we going to get Q to help?”

“What if we go to M? We could bypass Q and get video footage from M,” James suggests. They trade a quick glance, wherein they both acknowledge that M could be the mole, however unreasonable that seems. 

They visit M, who gives them an exasperated sigh and sends them along to Q. Not the mole then; just bloody unhelpful.

When they pass by James’ desk on the way out there’s a note laying on it. The note is different from the others: handwritten instead of typed and unaccompanied by a gift. Alec peers over James’ shoulder.

_Come to the Shadow Lounge on Friday. Alone. ;)_

“Huh. Isn’t that the gay bar you always go to?” Alec asks, though it’s not really a question.

Alec can practically hear James grinding his teeth.

“Let’s go see what we can find out about Q in the meantime,” Alec suggests. He doesn’t really know if the minions dote on Q or anything. (He figures it's probably true though. Q is just one of those rare people who you can't help but love.) Alec hasn’t seen Q since boarding school and he wants to keep it that way, which means not asking people about how Q is doing.

It’s a good thing Alec is used to not getting what he wants.

After two hours of flirting and coercing coworkers with coffee they find out that Q is:  
1\. A mystery to pretty much everyone. Nobody really knows anything about him other than what they've observed, which isn't much.  
2\. All business and sarcasm. He never talks to anyone unless he has to – excluding Moneypenny, though it's likely that she forces him to – but occasionally the minions will get little pop-up windows on their computers with a curt compliment on a job well done.  
3\. A workaholic. He lets his minions come in late and leave early every once in a while, but Q himself spends pretty much all his waking hours in MI6. (Q probably doesn’t have a significant other.)  
4\. About as antisocial and unfriendly as it gets.  
5\. Adverse to touching people. There’s a story about a new hire who tried to hand Q a prototype radio; he glared at her every day until she quit from the stress of it.

For some reason, number three makes Alec equal parts relieved and guilty. The rest just makes him feel forlorn; this sounds nothing the Q he used to know and it’s at least 75% his fault. 

James must sense his depression because the Double-O doesn’t call Alec out on his lie. Instead, his old friend just looks at him strangely and morosely declares, “Guess we’re going clubbing Friday.”

"Is that a no on seducing Q then?"

James doesn't deign him with an answer.


	7. The Club

The cab stops in a neighborhood that decidedly does not look like the one Q lives in.

“Tony, why are we here? And where exactly is here?” Steve hesitantly asks, already sure he doesn’t want to know the answer. 

“We, my dear, are in Soho, London because that’s where Q is. More specifically, he’s in there.” Tony leans back against the leather seat and lazily points out the window with his thumb, indicating a small black building with that has a line of questionably dressed men waiting to get in. 

“Tony, why would Q be in a gay club? He hates going out. Are you sure Q is here?” Wait a second. They haven’t heard from Q since boarding the plane. There’s no way Tony should know where Q is. Steve groans. “Please tell me you didn’t-“

Tony waves his accusation off. “Don’t worry Steve. It’s undetectable and the only way someone could ever get it out is if they bled Q dry.”

“You injected a tracker into his bloodstream?” Is that even possible?

“Yup, Bruce helped me design it. Now are we going to go in or are we going to wait until Q is surrounded by scantily dressed men with impure intentions?”

“Fine, we’ll talk about your violation of his privacy later. Let’s go. But uh, I’m not sure if they’ll let me in.” Steve indicates his plain white t-shirt and olive cargo pants. The shirt is ill-fitting – too tight, Tony must have accidentally shrunk it in the wash as always – and he’s pretty sure cargo pants were in style about…never. In his defense, they’re useful for storing pencils and brushes as well as the occasional bottle of paint. Still, next to Tony, who is wearing a tailored suit that’s probably ridiculously expensive and looks like he belongs on the cover of GQ or in a gay man’s wet dream, Steve looks like a bum.

Tony gives him a quick once over. “Ya, no, you’re good. Trust me Steve.” Tony licks his lips in a way that can only be suggestive and Steve's brain short circuits. The next thing Steve knows, they’re inside the club.

Tony seems to spot Q instantly despite the dingy lighting. Whether it’s because of the tracker or Tony is just that attuned to Q, Steve isn’t sure. Q is leaning against a wall, hands shoved in his pockets and shirking away from both the crowd and the woman trying to make conversation with him. Tony swoops in, the crowd parting for him, and grabs Q by the arm, dragging him to a private booth before anyone can really react. Steve smiles apologetically at the woman before trailing after Tony and Q.

The booth isn't really all that private and though it's spacious, they all squeeze onto one side, sandwiching Q. Q looks torn between surprise and relief and looks even more adorable than Steve remembers, if a little stressed. He’s wearing clothes that he obviously didn’t buy himself: Q’s closet consists of soft cardigans, ridiculous ties, and trousers, not skin-tight black leather pants and nearly translucent, flowy button up shirts. He looks uncomfortable, but he also looks delectable so Steve isn’t sure if he should thank or strangle whoever forced him into these clothes. Steve eventually settles on ruffling his hair in reassurance. Q relaxes marginally, leaning into him. 

“Thanks for saving me from Moneypenny,” he sighs. “Wait…” Q starts, and Steve can see the suspicion making its way onto his face, feel the tension seeping back into his body. “What are you guys doing here? How did you know I was here?” Q detaches himself from Steve’s side and whips around ninety degrees to glare at Tony. “You chipped me?!?” Steve slowly edges away, knowing by now it’s better to not get involved when the two are in argument, which is where this is inevitably going.

“No, I used satellite. Or CCTV. Or the GPS on your phone,” Tony placates with the most blatant lie Steve has ever heard. And Steve doesn’t even understand how any of those work, so it’s a really, really bad lie.

“I disabled the GPS on my phone.” Q crosses his arms and glares. 

“Ha! You can’t say why you think I didn’t use satellite or CCTV,” Tony goads and Steve really does not like where this is headed. The two of them always know things that they won't admit they know because they shouldn’t know them - except they do because they don’t know what legal and personal boundaries are – and said unspeakable things always get dragged out into the light when they fight. Steve doesn’t want to hear them; ignorance is bliss when it comes to these two. (At least, it was until he woke up one morning with super strength and stamina that won’t quit and found out that his boyfriend injected him with “super wall sex serum”. To this day, Tony insists it’s his own fault for not being able to hold him up for more than 10 minutes. Tony also insists that he should call himself Captain America and run around fighting villains with only spandex for protection and a shield for a weapon, so no.)

“You already know why because you chipped me!” Q refutes, waving his arms.

“Because you told us you were an accountant! Did you really expect me to believe that? Really Q, I thought you were becoming a drug dealer or something.”

“You thought I was more likely to become a drug dealer than an accountant?”

An uncomfortable silence falls over them. Tony shifts his eyes and scratches the back of his head. Q mirrors his gesture, looking a little sheepish. “It was high school,” Q mumbles. “I was curious. And it’s not like you never tried it.”

“Ya, but unlike someone I didn’t do it during class and get everyone – including the teacher and the school nurse they called in – blitzed. You’re lucky they were too high to expel you.”

“So you admit it,” Q accuses.

“I admit nothing. Besides, what else am I supposed to think when you describe your coworker crush as ‘likes women, fast cars, and explosives’?” Tony argues.

“I told you that this week. Not even you can chip me from across the world.”

“Is that a challenge? Because –“

“Tony,” Q sighs and Tony’s shoulders slump guiltily.

“It's only accurate up to the foot! That's hardly a violation of privacy," Tony protests. "I only activated it twice. Right after you called me and today. But, MI6, really?”

“How do you know the location of MI6’s headquarters?” Q asks.

“Everyone knows.”

Q’s face gets a pinched look. Steve can sympathize. 

“Anyways, is that your coworker you’ve been talking about?" Tony points at a middle-aged, blond man, effectively changing the subject. "He’s been not-so-subtly scoping us out for the few minutes."

Q nearly jumps out of his skin before ducking behind Steve. He pokes his head over Steve’s shoulder before hunching over again, nodding. “How did you know it was him? It could’ve been anyone. Have you been watch-“

“You have a type.” Q opens his mouth to protest but Tony cuts him off, holding up a hand. “First Steve, then the-asshole-who-I-won’t-name. What do these two have in common with the guy staring at us?” Tony ticks off on his fingers, “Tall, blond, muscular, kind of rugged, set off my douchebag meter at first glance...”

Steve takes a good look at the guy they’re talking about. Tony is right. “He doesn’t look very nice.”

“Does art look nice?” Q grumbles.

“Sometimes.” Steve wonders where Q is going with this.

“But that’s not the point of art, now is it?” Q pushes. “It’s to make you feel something.”

“Oh, and what does he make you feel?”

Q blushes and mumbles, “I don’t know.”

“Sounds like art alright,” Steve concedes. Then, because Q is too cute when he’s embarrassed and Steve can't resist, Steve asks, “Is that why you compared him to a picture of a ship?”

Q groans in embarrassment and burrows his head against Steve’s back. Steve turns so he can gently pet Q’s fluffy nest of curls, and if he accidentally brushes his fingers against the sensitive spot of skin on Q’s neck, causing Q to shiver, well…

Tony’s eyes light up and he leans forward, lightly tracing a path up Q’s spine and whispering in his ear, “Since your man insists on staring, why don’t we give him a show?”

"No. We are not going to - he is not -" Q protests, only to be cut off when Steve tugs him forward onto his lap and lightly bites Q's bottom lip. He shuts up after that.


	8. The Show

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guh I was so tempted to write this from James' POV. I had a hard time trying to figure out how to do this from Alec's POV which is why this chapter took so long to write.
> 
> It probably would have been a lot more entertaining from James' POV, but I said "A love story told via friends" so I'm sticking to that. Until I can't.

“I doubt Eve is the mole. You’re just still bitter about the time she shot you in the shoulder.” Alec comments through his earpiece.

“You don’t think it’s suspicious whatsoever that she’s here? In a gay club? Alone?” James argues.

“Odds are she didn’t come here alone. She’s probably also the one who left the note, but why?” Alec slides out of the second floor booth he’d been hiding in for the past hour. “I’ll go talk to her; you keep looking around.”

No reply.

“James?” Alec asks, weaving through a throng of bodies. Even though it’s early, the place is still packed. “James, what happened?” 

Radio silence.

Alec starts shoving people out of the way, no longer caring about being stealthy. Halfway down the stairs, he spots James and almost sighs in relief. His friend is fine, if frozen in place. Alec slows his descent, follows James’ gaze, and – 

Holy hell. Alec feels like he’s just been sucker punched in the gut.

Q is here. Q has filled out a little since high school and he looks…he looks good. Really, really good. If he’d been irresistibly adorable back then he’s now utterly delectable. The past six years have been more than generous to him. Alec has to force himself to tear his eyes away before he forgets why he should and bolts back up the stairs, the scene he’d just seen replaying in his head.

_Q’s head was tilted back and he was all but giving Steve Rogers a lap dance as the larger man marked up the side of his neck. If not for the hand caressing his throat and the bruising grip on his hip, he’d no doubt have fallen off. Especially with the way Rogers was rolling his hips, causing Q to gasp even as Stark kissed him. His legs were splayed open to make room for Stark, who was leaning over him predatorily. Stark had one hand under Q's barely there shirt and was either balancing or molesting Q’s pants with the other. Q's wrists were bound in front of him with a tie, and he was clutching the front of Stark's suit..._

No wonder James had been stunned. 

Before Alec can gather his wits, James’ voice fills his ear. “It would seem our Quartermaster is not nearly as cold as he wants us to think. In fact, he seems very friendly.”

“Ya?” Alec asks, as if he hadn’t witnessed it just seconds ago. ‘Very friendly’ is an understatement. Q is far more than a friend to Stark and Rogers. At least, he had been back during Alec's senior year. If the display downstairs was any indication, their polyamorous relationship is still going strong.

“You should see him Alec. He’s writhing between two men in public, practically begging to be taken right there. Who knew our little Quartermaster had such a charming side to him?” James muses. Alec has to bite his tongue to keep from yelling at James that Q is nothing like that. Not that Alec would know, not anymore. “Seducing him doesn’t seem like such a bad plan after all.” James’ wolfish grin is practically audible through the earpiece. Alec can’t blame his friend – Q is pretty captivating on a normal day, let alone when he’s all loose, pliant, and needy like Rogers and Stark had him – but that doesn’t mean the statement doesn’t make his fists clench. Alec takes a deep breath and reminds himself that Q isn’t his: hasn’t been for a long time. 

Q belongs to Stark and Rogers. When Alec had suggested that James seduce Q, he’d been operating under the assumption that Q was no longer theirs. After all, Stark and Rogers were always toted by the news to be the power couple of the century and lived nowhere near London. Apparently, Alec had been wrong. He now regrets having ever suggested the stupid plan to James because the engineer and the artist make Q happy, and if James screws that up – which he inevitably will because when he goes after someone he is very hard to resist and Q is such an innocent, or at least he used to be – it’ll be all Alec’s fault and Alec has fucked up Q’s life enough as it already is.

He has to stop James, somehow. (And figure out who made the bomb.)

“Didn’t you just say he was preoccupied?” Alec tries. It sounds weak, even to his own ears.

“Doesn’t matter. The men he’s with were eyeing me earlier. Q recognized me and tried to hide behind one of them, but even if Q is a bit reluctant, the other two are definitely interested. In fact, I think that the little show they’re putting on is all for me.”

Ya, because they’re staking their claim. Goddamn James and his ego. "What about Eve? Don't you think it's strange that she brought you here to see Q like this?" Alec attempts, hoping that James' distrust of Eve will work in his favor.

Radio silence.

Fuck all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how happy I am that I got to insert a Q/Tony/Steve moment.


	9. The Engineer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has a plan. It's foolproof. Which it doesn't even need to be, because they're not fools.

Tony winds the kiss down, pulling away in little increments. Q leans forward to continue the kiss only to be stopped by Steve’s strong hold on him. Q makes a quiet, needy noise and Tony pats Q on the head as he shifts his gaze upwards. Good: Mr. Blond Blue Eyes is still watching. (Along with a few others.) Tony grins at him, putting a little promise in his smile. _Soon._

Mr. Blond raises an eyebrow in fake nonchalance, and ya, this guy is definitely Q’s type, physical appearances aside even. Tony kind of hates him already. Then again, as long as this guy does good by Q, Tony’s feelings about him don’t matter. 

“Well, that sure got his attention.” Tony chuckles, bringing his attention back to Q. Q blinks up at him with glazed, cat green eyes. Tony loves when Q is like this: kissed silly and relaxed against him. “Let’s go dance, huh?” 

Q’s face scrunches up a little and he reaches for the front of Tony’s shirt, obviously angling for staying here and necking out like teenagers some more. Q hates dancing.

Tony catches his wrists by the tie. “It’ll be fun. Trust me. Steve and I will take the lead.” Tony sends Steve a pleading look over the top of Q’s head.

Steve stands and pulls Q up with him, strategically twirling them around so Q’s back is to Mr. Blondie. Tony eases out of the booth as well, presses a quick kiss to Q’s forehead, and excuses himself to the bathroom with a promise to be back soon.

He slips his hand into his pocket and sends a quick command to Jarvis with his cell phone as he beelines towards – 

Tony blinks. Huh, Mr. Blond disappeared. 

Tony is turning around to go back to Steve and Q when an arm curls around his waist and a hard body appears behind him. Mr. Blondie, most likely. “Looking for someone?” The words are saccharine sweet – and just as artificial, Tony would bet. 

“Depends on what someone is looking for,” Tony quips because if he’s going to have to play nice and flirt, he isn’t going to be an unsophisticated Neanderthal about it. He has a reputation to uphold. Speaking of Neanderthals, Tony would really appreciate it if the guy let go of him.

“Perhaps it’d be best if I just showed you.” Blond Neanderthal’s hand starts to slowly drift from Tony’s waist to his – 

Nope. Tony smoothly eases himself away from Mr. Wandering Hands and takes a step back, facing him. Tony plasters on a grin that he usually reserves for paparazzi. “Sorry, I’m spoken for.” A brief flash of irritation crosses Blondie’s face. Tony inwardly sighs. Q sure knows how to pick ‘em. “However, my friend, the one who was in the middle, isn’t.”

“And does this friend have a name?”

Tony arches an eyebrow. “Most people introduce themselves first.”

“Bond. James Bond.” He holds out a hand. Tony doesn’t take it.

“Stark. Tony Stark.” Tony copies Bond’s way of introduction, serious face and all. “And my friend is Q.” Bond looks a tad surprised. Tony isn’t sure if it’s because of his name or Q's. “Q doesn’t like dancing, but he might make an exception for you.” Their gazes drift over to where Q and Steve are shuffling awkwardly. Tony glares at Steve for not dancing and therefore ruining Tony’s plan. Steve smiles sheepishly in return, shrugging, but continues with his awkwardly shuffling. Time to improvise. Tony claps Bond on the shoulder. “Come on. Oh, and don’t screw up. Or else there’ll be a Jericho with your name on it.”

“And what would screwing up entail?” Bond asks, arching a perfect eyebrow.

“Being an idiot,” Tony replies, back already turned to Bond.

Tony makes his way across the club and slides behind Q, wrapping his arms around the shorter man’s waist. “Miss me? No, don’t answer that. You couldn’t even dance with Steve, that’s how much you missed me. I think you hurt Steve’s feelings.” Steve makes a face of absolute dejection. His baby blues are wide and watering; if Tony didn’t know better he’d that Steve was one second from breaking into tears. Times like this Tony thinks Steve missed his mark becoming an artist. 

Tony kisses Q on the forehead and swings his hips to the beat, hands drifting lower. He tilts his head back a fraction and grins devilishly at Steve, beckoning his lover to join them. Steve obeys, playing his part perfectly, and Tony leans forward to kiss him over the top of Q’s head as a reward. It’s also Tony’s reward to himself for thinking up of such a great plan.

Bond watches, his face unreadable. Tony tilts his head, motioning for him to come closer. Q is finally getting into it; his hands are on Steve’s arse and he’s shimmying against Tony in a way that would be sinful if the Brit had any sense of rhythm. (Instead it’s just adorable. Not that he’ll ever tell Q that.)

Tony releases his hold on Q and Bond seems to have caught on to Tony’s plan because the agent – at least Tony thinks he’s an agent. He has that long suffering facial expression that all agents, and Pepper have. Tony checks his phone, and yup, Bond is an agent – slides behind Q in a transition so smooth that Tony wonders if it’s practiced.

Q just keeps on dancing, oblivious to the events that just took place behind him. 

Tony doesn’t know whether he should be more proud of himself, for being so brilliant, or Q, for actually managing to interact with his crush without being an awkward mess. Not that Q knows he is, but still, Tony’s proud.

Tony flashes a peace sign at Steve. He then curls his fingers down, sticks his thumb out, and motions towards the bathroom, then the booth. _In two minutes, make an excuse to go the bathroom. We’ll go hide in the booth and watch._

Steve raises an eyebrow, looking a little dubious. 

Tony shrugs. It’s just a little dancing. Not much could go wrong.


	10. Da Capo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the super late update. Midterm+Katsucon+Hockey RPF kinda sidetracked me. I'll try to make up for it over Spring Break though!

Eve grins into her glass. Tony Stark and Steve Rogers' presence had been unexpected, as had their connection to Q, but in the end everything had worked out. And she hadn't even had to get Q drunk. Though, she'll probably have to do something about Q being chipped. National security and all. Q really needs to be more observant; he still hasn't notice the microphone she put on him earlier this week either. Then again, it's on the side of his glasses frames, which he probably only takes off to sleep and is practically blind without. She wonders how long it'll take Q to find it. Or to notice that he's dancing with James.

"Interesting friends you've got," James chuckles and Eve wants to facepalm, or shoot some sense into him. (She could probably do both at the same time.) Q is not some deadly woman with even deadlier heels to be seduced. Q is...something else entirely - to put it kindly - and James' usual tactics definitely won't work. How does he not realize that? 

Now that she's thinking about it, Eve isn't sure what _would_ work. 

Q, predictably, springs away from James, and flails his arms around a bit, occasionally pointing an accusatory finger. "What are you doing - Where's Tony - You…You!"

"Me," James nods slowly. "I was dancing. With you."

Q narrows his eyes suspiciously. "Why?"

"You're the clever one, why don't you tell me?" James grabs Q's wrists and pulls Q towards him.

A couple drifts in front of her and starts making out, blocking Eve's view of the two, but she knows James well enough to know that where his hands must be drifting as he interprets Q's stupefied silence as interest and whispers, in what she objectively supposes is a low and seductive tone, "Or I could just show you."

"Perish the thought. Perish you. I mean, I hope you perish," Q stammers. Eve isn't sure who she's most embarrassed and sorry for: James, who is so completely out of his depths and doesn't know it, Q, who somehow just botched a sure thing in the strangest way Eve has ever heard, or herself, for having to watch something so pathetic. Eve shuffles to the left just in time to see Q start nervously wringing his hands in front of himself. He's standing three feet away from James. Eve has no idea how he got so far away from the agent so fast or how they can even hear each other over the music at that distance. "Er, sorry, I didn't really mean-"

"Is that why you lit me on fire the other day?" James intones. Eve has to read his lips to make out the words.

Q shoves his hands in his pockets as he realizes what he's doing. Or he would have if the pants Eve had gotten him weren't glued to his skin. He glances down at his hands, realizes the problem, then tries the back pockets only to have the same thing happen again. After a second of staring at his hands and pants as if they've somehow betrayed him and another of staring at the floor in hopes that it'll swallow him, he settles for crossing his arms in front of his chest. It makes his protest of, "No, that was an accident. I swear," sound ten times more defensive and less believable. 

James, continuing on his warpath, leans in towards Q. "I find it hard to believe that someone as…skilled with his hands as you are did that by accident. Maybe, it was a ploy to get me to take my clothes off? You could have just asked you know. I wouldn't deny you."

"Or maybe you just have an uncanny ability to make things spontaneously combust around your person, 007," Q retorts. "The state of the equipment you bring back to me, when you oh so rarely return it, would certainly suggest so."

"Are you feeling a little warm? We could leave. I wouldn't want you to combust. Not spontaneously, at least. I'd take my time, prove to you that I treat your equipment well."

Eve barely manages to restrain herself from snorting. She's starting to wonder how James has ever successfully completed a honeypot mission.

"Great. I look forward to seeing the gun and radio from your last mission on my desk tomorrow morning." Eve didn't think there could be anything worse than Q's dancing, but Q's ability to flirt? It's worse. "Seriously James, what are you doing here? You're not even gay. Or bi even."

"Isn't it obvious? I'm here for you."

"You followed me?" Q shifts uncomfortably. Eve doesn't blame him. That sounded stalkerish, even by MI6 standards.

"Eve invited me, actually. Alec is here too," James recovers smoothly.

"Alec?" Q echoes.

"006?"

Q visibly shuts down. His nervous fidgeting stops, his eyes narrow, and his tone slips into the cold, detached one he usually reserves for mission. "I see. Well, have a good night 007."

James catches Q's wrist as the Quartermaster turns to walk away. "I will, if you stay with me."

Q jerks his arm back, but James maintains his grip. Q whips around, jabs James in the chest. "I am not going to be a participant in one of your sick little games," he hisses. "What do you get if you win, hm? I don't imagine you'd be betting money, missions maybe? If you fuck the frigid bitch of a Quartermaster, you get the mission to Italy to seduce Silvio Berlusconi's daughter, take your pick which one, and Alec takes the mission to Siberia that I'm about to send your sorry ass to?" By the end of his speech he's on his toes, face inches away from James', lips curled in a derisive snarl.

"Exploding pen, actually," James drawls sarcastically.

Eve didn't know that Q could become any more pale than he already is without becoming a vampire, but he does. "What?"

"Alec has an exploding pen, I really want one, and you always refuse to make me one."

"You're joking." It sounds more like a plea than a statement.

"Of course I'm joking. I have no idea what the bloody hell you're talking about. You're not making any sense. A bet?"

"Let go of me," Q orders, but his voice is trembling.

"If you explain what you're going on about."

"Like you don't know! Let go of me." Q uses his free hand to punch James in the arm, twisting and elbowing the agent in the gut when that doesn't work. 

If James feels any pain, it doesn't show. He merely catches Q's other wrist and pulls Q tight, the Quartermaster's back flush to his chest, so he's trapped. He forces Q's arms behind his back and holds them there with a hand. With his free hand, James tucks one of Q's stray curls behind his ear. James leans forward until his lips are mere millimeters away from Q's ear. "Make me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The exploding pen makes its return! If you've read the prequel, you'll know why Q hates the dang thing.


	11. The Reason

Alec is just starting to think he might not need to interfere after all when James traps Q. Q looks so distressed that Alec finds himself moving without thinking. Q ceases his struggles the moment he sees Alec, going still.

"You still have it?" Q asks, looking straight at him. 

Alec does a double take. That is not what he expected Q's first words to him since they broke up to be. "Have what?"

"The pen," Q answers and Alec immediately knows what pen he's talking about. Alec nods. There's no way he'd ever get rid of it. Or use it. Q had promised him that it would survive the explosion and could be retrieved and reloaded afterwards, but Q's engineering skills back then, while more than considerable, weren't quite what they are now and Alec doesn't want to risk losing it. James and him almost died once, because of his reluctance to use it. Not that he carries it everywhere he goes, including during missions, but he kind of does. "Why?" Q's voice wobbles and the boffin bites his bottom lip the same way he always used to whenever he was trying to put on a poker face. 

James looks at Alec curiously and Alec has to resist the urge to floor his best friend. He reminds himself that James is only doing this because he needs Q's help. But this isn't the way to do it. Alec squeezes James' arm until the older agent gets the message and releases Q. "Because you made it for me." It's all he has left of Q to call his.

Q furrows his brows. "I don't understand."

Alec is about to reply when Tony and Steve show up. They turn their heads back and forth, alternatively glaring at James and Alec. It's actually impressive how in sync they are. When Tony turns to stare down Alec, Steve turns his attention towards James, and vice versa. Finally, they settle on focusing on him.

"What are you doing here?" Tony asks.

"I came here with James." He calculates the odds of one of them agreeing to talk to him alone. He needs to warn them about James, and maybe get their help at the same time. When they glare at him, he adjusts his calculations.

And tackles Steve to the ground.

\------

"You're kidding me," Alec whispers to Steve conspiratorially as they're roughly shoved against the car and cuffed. He holds up his cuffed hands - now cuffed in front of him rather than behind because he's never been a fan of having his arms stuck behind him. "They do realize that both of us could be out of here in a second, right?" 

Rogers shrugs, but once they're inside the cop car the artists' arms bulge and the metal cuffs _snap_. Bloody hell, is that even possible? No wonder his punches had hurt so much. Alec's _bones_ feel bruised. 

Alec gingerly pokes his ribs and allows himself to wince a little at the pain. Yup, definitely bruised. And knowing Stark, the billionaire probably videoed the whole thing and uploaded the fight for the whole world to see. Of course, Alec lost on purpose - no matter how steroids Steve is on Alec would never lose to anyone in hand-to-hand, not even James - but they don't know that. James is never going to let it go.

"I'd apologize, but I'm not really sorry."

"Well, I am. Sorry, that is. And not just because you hit harder than I thought you would. It was the only way I could get you alone."

"Most people just ask."

"Would you have said yes?" Alec counters. He takes Steve's silence as a no. "Anyways, you need to convince Tony to help figure out who James' secret admirer is."

"You already asked once. What makes you think he'll change his mind? Why should he?"

"Because if he doesn't then James will use Q to do it."

"What, you think that's the reason James was dancing with Q? This might not occur to you, but people can be genuinely attracted to him. Not everyone is you. Why are you doing this to Q? Haven't you already done enough? Or does it just kill you to see him happy? You - " 

"I'm doing this _for_ Q," Alec interrupts, looking Steve in the eye. "It has always been for him. I want him happy just as much as you do."

"How can you say that when - "

"Quiet down back there!" The copper driving yells at them.

"My dad was going to have him killed," Alec hisses.

"Why? Even if they had a reason, your parents have been dead for years and you've never said anything. Why should I believe you?" Steve jabs him in the chest.

"Because he used to be alive and couldn't stand his only son being gay. I don't know how he found out but he did. This is the man who killed his own wife out of shame. He would have done it. I couldn't tell Q. He would've insisted on doing something stupidly brave or courageous and he and Tony were brilliant back then, but we were just kids and my father would've sent the _Bratva_ , the mafia. I couldn't let that happen. I tried to stay away from Q, but you know Q. He loves too much, can't let things go. I was running out of time. They were in the school. You didn't know the Russian teacher, Mr. Zhenya, but he took a sick leave and his replacement was a man sent by my father. The next day I ended things with Q. I hate how I did it, but I didn't know how else I could keep Q away, safe. The _Boyevik_ was watching. There couldn't be any room for doubt."

"Why didn't you say anything earlier?"

"Because Q was happy with you and Tony." Alec bats Steve's arm away. "I didn't want to ruin that. And after I'd thought you'd broken up, he was busy settling into his new role as Quartermaster. He didn't need me showing up and mucking up his life."

"I don't believe you."

"I don't care if you do as long as you warn Q about James. I know you're together and Q is as loyal as they come, but James can be incredibly persuasive. Tell him to help James or something, just make sure he doesn't get hurt. I swear on the Queen's life that when I was with Q I wasn't using him for some stupid bet or anything for that matter, but James _will_ use him."

"What?" Steve looks genuinely confused. "We're not together. Not in that way."

"What do you mean you're not -"

The car stops abruptly, slamming them forward until their seat belts jerk them back. "Out of the car you two." The copper opens both doors, eyeing them with disgust. "Now, what's going to happen is…"

Alec rolls his eyes at the man's drivel and removes his handcuffs. He tosses them at the cop and pulls out his MI6 identification before the man can blow a gasket. He looks like he'd have a heart attack if he did, with the shape he's in. "Thanks for the ride, but we'll be taking our leave now." He loops an arm around Roger's and pulls him away from the station before they can get roped into doing paperwork. The second they're in an alley, out of the cop's sight, Alec lets go and rounds on Steve. "So what did you mean, you're not together?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was so hard not to give Alec's side of the story away when there were so many angry comments directed towards him! I'm so glad to have it out now. Apologies to everyone who wanted him to be the bad guy, but I did fulfill the humiliated in public request!? Sort of.


	12. The Lie(?)

_You're okay, right?_ Tony texts Steve.

Ten minutes later - which is strange because Steve always replies instantly - he gets a message back. _Fine. Be prepared for a long night. What's Q's address? I'll meet you there._

Tony sends Steve the address and warns him that Tony and Q might be a while because the police seem hellbent on keeping everyone there until they've gotten an account from every single person and Q's MI6 status is a secret so he can't bully the police into letting them go. They could try to slip away, but Tony doesn't need that kind of publicity (he's trying to do better for Steve's sake, okay?). Also, more importantly, there's no way Q can run in those pants. The fact that it's going to be a long night is kind of a given at this point. 

_Trevelyan used his Double-O status and we walked away before the cop could stop us._ Tony stares at the message in disbelief because 1) Steve never breaks the rules and 2) Trevelyan is a Double-O?

Steve is at Q's apartment by the time Tony and Q have escaped the hell that is incompetents with legal authority. Q changes into his pajamas then collapses on the couch, leaning against Tony. The second Q is settled, Steve starts talking. By the time he's done, light is beginning to filter in through the blinds and Q is trembling.

Tony places his hand atop of Q's, tracing circles into his friend's thin wrist in hopes of keeping his friend from shaking apart. It's hard to keep his own hands from quivering, but not for the same reason. What does that asshole Trevelyan think he's doing? Tony is going to hunt him down and make him regret even being in the same country as Q. Let alone stalk Q to his workplace.

Steve stands, presses a kiss to Q's forehead. "I'm going to bed now. If you need me, just wake me." Then he gives Tony a level look, the one that says, “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t do it.” With that, he leaves. Steve's hearing was enhanced by the serum Tony injected him with, but Q doesn't know about that. Tony hasn't told him about the serum yet. Once this whole mess sweeps over though, Q will probably question the way Steve somehow beat a Double-O in hand-to-hand and how Steve doesn't have a single scratch to show for it. Tony hopes this whole mess will sweep over. 

"This whole time he actually…” Q chokes on the words.

“He could be lying,” Tony points out. He doesn’t want to rain on Q’s parade, but he doesn’t want Q to get his hopes up either.

What if Alec isn't lying?" Q whispers, eyes shining in the light of sunrise. He looks devastatingly wistful. “I wish he’d told me back then, then I would’ve - we could’ve-”

"What would you even do?" Tony doesn’t let Q finish that sentence. He knows what Q is thinking; they could still be together, live happily ever after. And that’s bullshit.

Q goes silent for a long time. "I don't know."

"Does it even matter? It wouldn’t change anything. Just forget him," Tony presses, presses because Alec Trevelyan is like a gaping wound in Q’s chest that refuses to close and Tony is doing the best he can to keep Q from bleeding out, but he’s a shitty doctor. At this point he’s not sure if he can even make things better or if he’s just making it hurt worse.

"But if he's telling the truth-"

"But what?"

"I…it sounds stupid, but it matters okay?" Under Tony's hand, Q"s hand curls into a fist.

"Q, we once tried to make a pretty light out of flourine and caesium, thinking we could freeze them mid reaction by adding liquid nitrogen. I think we're both beyond the point of worrying about stupid."

"We were six," Q refutes. Then, quieter, "This is different." A few minutes pass and it becomes apparent that Q isn’t going to elaborate. 

"I was hoping that the whole Bond thing meant you'd gotten over him,” Tony admits. “I mean, we both knew that your thing with Hermione was just experimentation and that you 'went out' with Sherlock because you secretly knew that relationship was doomed from the start and were just trying to fool yourself, but I thought this time…" He trails off because there's no good way to phrase what he's thinking.

"I am over him, but it's just…" Q sighs, stares at the ground, turning so that his back is turned towards Tony. "It'd mean it wasn't for a bet."

Shit. "We'll find out somehow, okay?" Tony promises. "You're in the spy game now. It'll be easy."

"I'm usually the one orchestrating the espionage. Not the victim of it," Q grumbles, but leans into Tony anyways.

Tony decides to not point out how easily it was to chip him and instead curls around Q like an octopus and watches the sun rise over London. He thinks about the way Q reacted to his supposed crush, James Bond, the way Q forgot all about him the moment Alec appeared. Tony is pretty sure Q is just trying to fool himself. His friend is not, in any way, over Alec.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ya....I'll be writing a Sherlock meets Q bit soon (because I couldn't resist. There are so many Q as a Holmes, but not many Q meets Sherlock and things happen). I'll probably be making it the second part of the series, and bumping Too Shy To Say Hi to be the third part of Once Wild Things.


	13. The Mark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update, I was writing part 2 of the series which is just a fun bit about Q/Sherlock and their little messed up relationship. I’m thinking of bringing Sherlock and John into this work, would that offput anyone?

Pepper Potts wakes up to news that Steve Rogers was assaulted in a gay club in London. She turns off her phone then decidedly goes back to sleep. She’s not going anywhere near this one.

\-------

“So what’re you going to do about the tracker?” Eve asks from her perch on Q’s desk as he walks in. The boffin frowns, as if Eve didn’t do him a huge favor two days ago.

“The one _you_ put on me, or the one Tony put on me?” 

“Technically, I put a microphone on you and Tony put one _in_ you. Speaking of putting things in, I already know what you did with the mic I put on you. Are they always that vocal?” Not that she had minded. After all, it was Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, power couple of the decade and, more importantly, third hottest celebrity couple in the word. 

Q shrugs even though Eve is pretty sure he knows the answer to her question. He’d been suspiciously friendly towards them. By that, she means friendly, period.

“If you answer all my questions, I’ll give you the note and present Bond left on your desk for you,” she wheedles, waving the note in front of Q’s nose. He tries to snatch it, but she used to be a field agent and he’s always been a boring boffin at a desk. She thinks. If the other night was any indication, Q is more of a wild card than she'd originally thought. An awkward, painfully shy wild card, but an unpredictable one nonetheless.

“What, they didn’t give you a folder with my life history when you became my ‘therapist’?” Q mutters dryly. 

“They did, but someone managed to reduce his life history to a single, very uninformative, two word sentence.” Q eyes the note, as if wondering if it’s worth it so she sweetens the pot. “I’m sure Bond would’ve delivered it himself, but he got called out on a mission.”

“Where?”

“London, actually.”

“They unleashed Bond on London. Without me as his handler. Is M feeling suicidal?” Q makes for his computer. Eve extends a leg, barring him. “Eve, I don’t have time - “

“You do now.” Besides, Bond doesn’t have an actual mission. It’s more like glorified babysitting without being seen by the baby: spying, practically. Even he can’t turn that into a mess.

“No, they’re not always that vocal, but that’s mostly because Steve enjoys gagging Tony far too much. They’re friends from boarding school. Alec too. As for the tracker Tony put in me, I’ll deal with it. Now gimme.” Q hold a hand out and she hands it over, along with the little present Bond had left. She, of course, has already read it.

_Sorry for my actions the other night. I hope this might put me back in your good graces. It reminded me of you. -007_

Q methodically unwraps the package. It’s a miniature cactus. Q, the dork, pokes the thing to check if its real. 

“And first blood goes to Bond,” Eve comments as Q sucks the bead of blood off the tip of his finger. "Funny, because you sent him a _bomb_."

“Does this mean he thinks I’m prickly?” Q asks, carefully setting the cactus down on the desk and hopping onto his computer. She doesn’t miss the small smile on his face.

“Maybe he thinks you need a little sunshine. You are awfully pale. Or maybe he thinks you need a good watering.”

“You don’t water a cactus." Q attempts to keep a straight face, but the tips of his ears are red.

“You do every once in a while and you, mister, are way overdue. It's a good thing you still like him and he apparently still likes you despite how badly you managed to bungle everything up.”

“He treated me like an easy woman.”

“He apologized for it,” Eve points out. 

“He’s trying to buy me,” Q retorts.

“You did the same to him and you like the present.” Q is, in fact, absently stroking the cactus. Eve makes a mental note to get the pining idiot a family pack of band aids and tell Bond to get Q something more...cuddly next time. The reality that there's going to be a next time is so pathetic that she can't help but be fond of the pair. Honestly, they're grown men and they can't even properly talk to each other without starting a fire or causing a fight to break out. Instead, they're trading notes like little kids. Eve is surprised Q hasn't sent a note asking Bond if he'd like to go on a date, check yes or no. Actually, on second thought, she isn't. He's not gutsy enough to do that.

“Fine. I still appreciate his backside as much as I did the other day,” Q admits, frowning. Then he glances at his screen and his frown deepens. 

“Bond. This is Q. Do _not_ approach your mark. I repeat, do not approach your mark. Bond, I swear if you -" Q sighs in frustration.

"I take it he approached his mark?" Eve teases, wondering what the big deal is. Bond knows how to handle himself and it's not like Q could possibly be jealous. Q shoots her a murderous glare and that's her cue to make herself scarce and return to watching from afar. She slides off Q's desk and makes her way to her own office, hoping that Bond keeps Q busy enough that the boffin won't scan the cactus for bugs.


	14. The Detective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the super slow update. Finals/internship searching :(. Updates should come faster now.

“Sherlock, someone is watching us,” John whispers as Sherlock leans down to sniff the dead body. 

“You just realized? He’s been watching us for at least an hour now. Ignore him. He’s irrelevant.”

“I just got here a minute ago.” Somehow, John isn’t surprised that Sherlock didn’t realize that or bother to tell John that he’s being stalked. “Wait, he just disappeared.”

Not a minute later the figure reappears. John blinks to make sure he isn’t seeing things. “James, is that you? What’re you doing here?”

Sherlock’s head snaps up, the detective suddenly interested. “Met in Afghanistan did you? MI6. A Double-O at that. What do you want? No, that wasn't an actual question don't answer."

"Babysitting you. I can see why, seeing as John is here." 

"You saved my life _once._ One time. Do you know how many times I resuscitated you? Three."

"Two actually." James corrects smugly. John blinks, because he distinctly remembers having to administer CPR on three separate occasions and-

“Ghanzi.” John narrows his eyes. “Really?”

“Interesting. You slept with him,” Sherlock quips from behind him. “Nothing like a near death experience, is there? Even if it is faked.” 

James shrugs shamelessly. “Not that hard to guess. I thought you were supposed to be impressive?”

“Your Quartermaster is 26 years old, has brown hair, and doesn’t play well with others. He has a squirrel feeder and likes his tea with a splash of milk and three sugars. You can ask him yourself to confirm, if he isn’t too mad about you ignoring his orders to not approach me,” Sherlock drawls, turning back to the dead body. “As for what I deduce about you...all boring. Not that Q isn’t boring, but he’s less.”

John peers at James, trying to figure out how Sherlock could possibly deduce the bit about a squirrel feeder. It’s far-fetched, even for him.

“John, tell him I’m trustworthy,” Sherlock orders. Which means…

“You have a case for us?” John asks James. “You can trust Sherlock. Me, not so much.”

James grins at the old joke. “Someone left a bomb for me at MI6. It had a note attach-”

“Boring,” Sherlock interrupts. “Obvious.”

James raises an eyebrow. Sherlock continues poking at the body. James turns to look at John, obviously expecting more of an answer. John shrugs. 

“If it’s obvious, why don’t you tell me? Unless you don’t know?” 

“The person who left it for you wouldn’t want me to.”

John blinks. Since when does Sherlock ever do what other people want him to? Something is up. 

“Do you know the person?” James questions.

“Ah, so the Queen’s finest aren’t completely brainless. Hand me your firearm.”

John nods when James looks at him for assurance. He understands the agent’s hesitance. Sherlock alone is nerve wracking. Sherlock with a firearm or anything else potentially dangerous? Nightmare inducing. Avoid at all costs. He might shoot you with it for an experiment.

Sherlock turns the gun in his hands, inspecting it and sighs. “How dull.” He points it at James and cocks it.

“Sherlock?” James asks nervously.

The detective pulls the trigger. John tackles Bond to the ground. 

Nothing happens. John exhales in relief and helps Bond up. Sherlock quirks an eyebrow at him.

“It’s encoded to his palm print. He wouldn’t have handed it to me otherwise,” Sherlock explains, obviously annoyed.

“No, I still would have. John says to trust you and that’s enough for me.”

Sherlock huffs in disbelief and tosses the Walther back. 

“Come, John. We have somewhere to be. Leave your old army buddy behind. Have drinks with him later if you must.”

They chase down the murderer, get shot at like they always do, capture him, hand him over to Scotland Yard when Lestrade shows up a minute after its all over, and head back to Baker Street. John senses James watching them the whole time.

John drops the shades down as Sherlock sweeps the flat for bugs. Sherlock nods at him and he relaxes a bit.

“What was that about?” John asks. 

“You should have drinks with him. Ask him to a bring a friend. I’ll even come along, eat something.”

Now John is really curious. And worried. “Who is the guy who planted the bomb? Is it Moriarty? I mean, I know he’s dead, but-”

“Not Moriarty,” Sherlock assures.

Who else does Sherlock know that could make a bomb? Too many people, probably. The better question is: who does Sherlock respect enough to not reveal their identity just because they probably don’t want to be identified?

Nobody. Mrs. Hudson? Only if it suited him. Mrs. Hudson wouldn’t plant a bomb in MI6 though. So who? Someone John doesn’t know because Sherlock wouldn’t talk about them?

“---Does this have to do with the skull?”

Sherlock smiles. “You’ve gotten better. Good. So, drinks?”

John inwardly sighs, but goes to open the blinds and play charades with James.


	15. The Reunion

3...2...1…

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Sherlock smiles. Q is so predictable.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” John asks.

“No need.” Sherlock already knows what the text will say. “Reply, ‘Your idea of a romantic gesture is the same as mine. That, or you actually want to make him and his friend suffer,’ will you John?”

“You don’t have an idea of romance, Sherlock,” John comments as he types. 

The door to Sherlock’s bedroom pops open. “He actually does. Count yourself lucky you don’t know what it is. Keeping him blissfully ignorant, Sherlock?” Sherlock blinks. He may have miscalculated. This is a bit not good.

“And who are you?” John asks, subtly reaching for his firearm.

“Close the blinds, would you?” Q requests.

John squints at Q, who is barely visible in the dark of Sherlock’s room. “Great, another Holmes sibling to order me about. Any others you want to warn me about Sherlock?” John complains, but moves to close the blinds anyways. 

Q smiles at Sherlock as John’s back is turned and they agree to temporarily put aside their differences for the sake of messing with John. Q greets Sherlock with a light kiss and Sherlock takes it a step further it because John isn’t fooled that easily, not anymore. Only after John clears his throat do they separate.

“Right, not related then?” 

Q pretends to not hear, wrapping his arms around Sherlock and nuzzling at his neck. To John it would appear to be an intimate hug. To Sherlock, well, it feels like Q is trying to choke him to death and is ready to bite through his neck if that fails. It seems Q hasn’t gotten much better at combat since joining MI6, if this is his idea of a stranglehold. “Sherlock, I missed you. Sorry I was away on business when you visited Mummy.”

John gapes like a fish and he slowly points from Q to Sherlock. “You’re having me on.”

Sherlock carefully pries Q’s fingers off his neck. “Not at all. This is Queenie, my younger brother.” Q hisses murderously. “He prefers to go by Q.” Sherlock aggressively ruffles Q’s hair, knocking the boffin’s glasses askew, in petty revenge. 

“Nice to meet you Q.” John hesitantly extends a hand.

“I don’t like people touching me.”

John eyes the way Sherlock and Q are plastered together as he withdraws his hand. “Er, right. I’ll just leave you two to it then?”

“Do.”

“Don’t,” Q orders, contradicting Sherlock. “I’m excited to finally meet you in the flesh. Sherlock never shuts up about you.”

“Well I’ll just leave you two to figure out then.” John quickly grabs his jacket and makes his way to the door, warily eyeing the pair the whole time.

The minute John is out the door Q disentangles himself from Sherlock. “I can’t believe he doesn’t realize you’re romancing him.” Q rolls his eyes. “I can’t believe what you must put him through for him to believe I’m actually your brother.”

Sherlock scoffs. “Please, like you don’t watch half of it. Which is why you should know I am not romancing John. I don’t do sentiment. Besides, I’m obviously besotted with you.” No longer true, now that he’s not half out of his mind from drugs all the time. Still, the statement has its intended effect and Q flinches.

“I have enough madmen to watch over without including you on the list and I know you better than that, Sherlock. I’ve heard that one before." Q's eyes dart around the flat, resting on the skull. "Anyways, what’re you planning, Sherlock?”

“Don’t you know me well enough to guess?”

“Not even you know yourself that well. I should just tie you to a chair or something. Kidnap you so you can't meet them.”

Sherlock scoffs. “You and I both know your little agent crush will be here in-”

Q is gone. Sherlock smiles. Time to proceed.


	16. The Meddling

Sherlock is half-naked when the agent bursts in. “Do you mind? I was changing,” he lies, gesturing to the clothes he’d thrown onto the couch a second earlier.

“In the living room,” the agent deadpans.

“There’s an experiment in my bedroom. John left to fetch some milk for it,” Sherlock explains. The agent stares at him skeptically. “Well? Some privacy? I’ll open the curtains once I’m decent.” Bond peers around the flat, eyes landing on Sherlock’s bedroom door, which Q had left open. “If you don’t leave I’ll have to report you for sexual harassment. I know all about your reputation."

Bond looks at him with no small amount of annoyance, but stalks out the flat nonetheless. Paperwork and lectures: every government killers' weakness.

“Don’t forget, drinks later! Bring your friend Trevelyan!” Sherlock calls as the door closes. He texts John to pick up a jug of milk.

Q: _not better, nervous paranoid wreck, pretending, actually wears ties, crush on Bond, 73.46% probability it’s superficial, type: masculine blond men, 9.62% chance he’s in love with Stark, 94.3% not over Trevelyan._

\------- 

Alec Trevelyan: _Caring, thoughtful, killer, regret, loyal. Deceitful?_

Sherlock blinks. That was not what he expected.

“Sherlock?” John asks, taking Sherlock by the elbow and pulling him out of a drunkard’s path. “Are you okay? Let’s sit down.”

Introductions go around the table. Sherlock ignores them. John will introduce Sherlock for him. Probably order him a ridiculous amount of food as well, but at least the doctor knows how Sherlock likes his drinks.

_Too many unknowns. Delay plan. Investigate._

 “I heard you got a new Quartermaster a while back. What do you think of him?” They both bristle a bit. Subtly, because they’re trained to not give anything away, but there’s always something. Bond’s eyes flash in a slightly predatory way. No surprise that the man wouldn’t mind having some fun with Q. Anyone, even Lestrade, could see that.

_James Bond: unsuitable for Q? Perfect?_

Sherlock puts that question on the backburner and turns towards Q’s ex. “A bit protective, aren’t you?”  

Oh.

Alec Trevelyan: _In love with Q._

Isn’t that interesting? “Alec Trevelyan, correct? Born in Russia?” A slight nod. “Must have been hard, being gay. I’ll bet the family didn’t approve.” _Ah, that seems to have struck a cord._ “Mother?” Eyes to the side. _Dead then._ “Father then,” Sherlock deduces. “Last relationship ended terribly.” _Guilt_.

“Sherlock,” John admonishes. He’s clearly unhappy, but it’s not like John didn’t foresee this coming. Bond is clearly on the edge, as expected. Trevelyan is prickly, but more uneasy than anything. Hiding something then.

 Sherlock’s eyes flicker back towards Bond. Trevelyan tracks the movement.

_Bond doesn’t know Trevelyan dated Q._

Interesting. “It must make things terribly awkward.”

“What must make things awkward?” Trevelyan asks, all faux ignorance.

“Having dated a colleague. Why’d you break up? Father offer you a little money?” A slight fist clench. “A few little threats to cut you off?” A poker face.

_Threats. Money somehow involved._

“Which one?” Bond asks, interrupting his interrogation. “Alec has had a lot of dates go bad.”

_True? False. A joke. Something tipped Bond off?_

“I see. Your father is dead now, isn’t he? Did you kill him yourself? A bit heartless, but that seems to be your thing. No, you didn’t kill him. You’re too cowardly for that. You-”

“Sherlock!” John grits out. John turns towards the agents. “He’s had a bit much to drink.” Sherlock’s glass is untouched. “I’ll take him home now. Nice meeting you.” John places a few coins on the bar then pulls Sherlock up off his stool. Sherlock lets him.

He makes eye contact with the camera on the street as John calls a cab.

“Sherlock, what the hell was that?” John asks - _whines_ \- once they’re in the cab.

Sherlock shrugs. “At least I didn’t poison him.”

John’s eyes dart towards Sherlock’s coat pockets. Sherlock lets him wonder.

_Bond or Trevelyan?_


End file.
